Ruin regime

chapter 1:

The weight of an empty stomach:

Eric  woke  up  to  the  faint  glow  of the morning sun seeping through the tatured  curtains of the small room he shared with his parents and younger sister. A pang of hunger twisted his stomach as he stretched his bony limbs, his thin blanket barely holding back the morning cold. He glanced at his sister, Emily still sleeping soundly beside him, her small frame curled up under the  worn blanket. 

As the oldest son of the Anderson family,  Eric had a responsibility beyond his years.  At the age ten years old  like every other child who reaches that age, he was expected to contribute to his colony's meager harvest, just like everybody else. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed  and stood up,  his bare feet touching the cool, dirt covered floor. He could feel the remains of yesterday's labor still on his skin. 

According to stories told among the  elderly,  the colony had once been a sprawling city filled to the brim with different people with buildings that cut through the sky but that all changed when the great floods happened wiping out all of those great cities only few surviving to to tell stories about them, now in their place stood vast fields of grain  as far as the eye could see. 

Eric glanced at the corner of the room where a faded poster hung crookedly from the wall. It depicted a smiling family working together in the fields, the sun shining down on them, a perfect representation of the regime's vision of prosperity.  The reality was far from that. 

Eric gently nudged Emily awake,  whispering in her ear to wake her.  She blinked sleepily, her hazel eyes still heavy with dreams. "Morning, Eric," she mumbled, her voice soft and tired.

“Morning Emily” he replied,  offering her a small smile that didn't reach his tired eyes.  They shared a glance both knew what lay ahead,  a day of back breaking work under the watchful eyes of the overseers. The mourning was a familiar routine of groans and whispered conversations. The colony stirred to life, each family preparing for another day of labor, another day of survival. The breakfast consisted of  thin porridge that did little to fix their hunger.  It was another reminder of the regime's control,  a small reward for the labor that sustained their oppressors.  

Eric's father, tired  but resolute, tied his worn boots and offered a tired smile to his children. "Stay strong, my little warriors," he said, his voice a mix of fatigue and determination.

They headed out into the fields, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun climbed higher. The morning air held a hint of moisture, a promise of dew that hung on to the crops they would soon harvest.

Eric's hands gripped the rough handle of his short worn tool as he joined the  line of workers, their backs bent under the weight of  labor. The overseer's armed  gaze bore down on them, a constant reminder that resistance was futile. As the day went on, the sun rose higher,  showering them with harsh rays that beat down on the workers. Eric's hands  ached, his muscles screamed, and his stomach rumbled with hunger. 

In those moments of constant work, the boy felt anger, not just towards the regime but towards the world for robbing them of their childhood. As the overseers barked orders, Eric made a silent promise to himself and his family. That they would find a way to break the chains that bind them. 

And so, As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the worn soil, Eric's thoughts were consumed by the injustices he had witnessed. The ache in his muscles was overshadowed by the ache in his heart – a growing conviction that he needed to change the course of his people's destiny. Tomorrow, and the days that followed, held the promise of something more than the relentless labor he had known all his life. 

This is just the prototype book that I am still in the process of writing please tell me what you think